Power and Guilt
by True Believer
Summary: A darker version of the Spider-Man story. Chapter 9 now uploaded, I promise! After an enforced hiatus Spidey's back and facing off with the Bringer, with Captain Stacy in tow. Please R&R so I know people read my stuff
1. Friends and Family

Power and Guilt  
  
A darker version of the Spider-Man story  
  
Chapter One: Friends and Family  
  
Peter Parker was sat with his head down on his desk in his bedroom, fast asleep. He had spent too much time studying and not looked at the clock, and when he finally realised he was tired he didn't have the energy to go to his bed. This usually happened to him most nights, and he was beginning to do the same in class as well. He'd been trying harder than usual lately at school, he'd had a rude awakening with his projected grades. They were all Ds, not a true fail but no college would look twice at his application. He was extremely gifted, but he just coasted along only doing what was asked of him and sometimes less. But he'd promised himself when his parents died that he'd make them proud, and his Aunt and Uncle offered only encouragement, he was scraping his way to Bs.  
  
He sat up straight and stretched his aching back with a yawn and stood up, he made his way over to the mirror and looked at his scrawny reflection. His hair was brown and messy, in need of a trim, and his face was dotted with acne. He messed his hair with his hands until he was satisfied and then straightened his glasses, with a quick rub of his chin he decided he didn't need a shave and started to dress. He pulled on a midnight blue long- sleeved t-shirt and swapped his pyjamas for a pair of blue jeans, slipping on his socks he reached for his can of deodorant and sprayed his underarms. He picked up his book bag and left his room, the clock said it was eight o'clock and he didn't want to miss the bus.  
  
Rushing downstairs he ran over to the door and slipped on his trainers, his uncle Ben was sat at the table reading a newspaper and his aunt May was coming from the kitchen with his breakfast in her hand. She stopped and looked from Peter to Ben and then put down the plate.  
  
"Peter, you shouldn't leave without breakfast," she called.  
  
"I'm not hungry thanks aunt May," he replied fumbling with his keys and dropping them before unlocking the front door, "I don't want to miss the bus," he said before running out and closing the door behind him.  
  
"Bye Peter," his uncle Ben called, directly contradicting May. She gave him a dirty look.  
  
"It's just not good for him, he's thin enough as it is," Ben lowered the newspaper with a grin, "you and I both know he's studying instead of sleeping."  
  
"I'm not worried, he's a good kid," Ben replied, "he'll eventually sort himself out, it's called maturing."  
  
"Well he can't very well mature with no sleep and no food," she replied, "he's a growing boy and it'd do him some good to have a rest."  
  
"I'll talk to him okay?" Ben said going back to his paper, "If that will make you happy."  
  
Peter's feet left the last step of his house as the bus swept gracefully away from the curve, he ran after it for a second but couldn't even get ten feet before the bus accelerated out of sight. In frustration he kicked a stone in the garden and stubbed his toe, apparently the stone was a rock and was buried except for the tip into the ground. He swore under his breath and hopped about for a moment and then heard a girl's voice coughing behind him.  
  
"Missed the bus too huh?" she said as he regained his composure and turned around. Peter didn't recognise her, but he wished he did, she was a little shorter than him with shoulder length flowing blonde hair. She was wearing a very short and airy white dress over a pair of light blue jeans and a blue jacket on top, Peter noticed a black band keeping her hair away from her face and two books in her right hand, one was a brown textbook titled 'The Fun of Calculus' and the other was an old novel so heavily read the covers were unreadable.  
  
"Yeah," Peter replied after a few seconds but felt complied to give a reason, "I didn't get much sleep."  
  
"Me either," she said with a small frown, "I spent all night studying, moving schools means a lot of work to catch up on."  
  
"You're going to Midtown?"  
  
"Yeah, I used to go to Standard High back in San Francisco," she started walking in the direction of the bus and Peter walked along in step with her, "My dad's a cop and he got a better job offer here in New York, so we moved."  
  
"You came all the way across the country?" Peter asked astonished.  
  
"Yep, but since my mom died I didn't like it there as much," she saddened slightly, "I don't think my dad did either because he jumped at a chance to move away."  
  
"Sorry about your mom," Peter said quietly, "I kind of know how you feel, my parents died in a plane crash about ten years ago."  
  
"It's okay really, I can't imagine what it would be like to lose both parents though," they walked in silence for a few seconds when Peter decided to break the awkward silence.  
  
"I live with my aunt and uncle, they do the best they can you know," he smiled at her and she returned it, "but they're really afraid of being bad parents, they don't push me as hard as they could."  
  
"I hardly see my dad," she explained, "because he's captain he's on call pretty much twenty-four-seven."  
  
There was another lengthy pause and they carried on walking together in silence, then they began to talk about school and classes and started laughing and joking about their various shortcomings. They carried on until they arrived at the school, the bell for first period ringing as they stepped inside.  
  
"Bye," she said as they split at a fork in the corridor.  
  
"Bye," Peter said then got a sudden surge of bravery, "wait, I don't even know your name."  
  
"It's Gwen Stacy, and you?"  
  
"Peter Parker."  
  
"Hmm," Gwen said in contemplation before reaching into her book bag and pulling out a piece of paper, "this is my number, in case you need to call me."  
  
"O-okay," Peter stuttered, this girl was coming on to him and he didn't have too much experience in this area, she walked away with a smile and he called after her "how about tonight?"  
  
"Sounds great Pete, see you then."  
  
Peter just smiled and sank back to lean on a wall, his smile was so wide he swore it hurt and his legs felt like jelly. He couldn't believe that such a beautiful girl was interested in him. 


	2. School Daze

Chapter Two: School Daze  
  
"Parker!"  
  
"42," Peter shouted as he rose from sleeping on his desk.  
  
"Peter this is Biology class, not Math," his teacher came over to his desk and spoke quietly, "I know you've been working hard at home to improve your grades but I can't let you sleep in class."  
  
"Sorry Mr. Jackson," Peter replied sheepishly, "it won't happen again."  
  
"Listen more in class and then you won't need to study so hard okay?"  
  
"Yes sir," Peter was really embarrassed and lowered his gaze just enough so he couldn't see his classmates sniggering to each other. Then one classmate decided to break Peter's blissfully ignorant state, a ball of paper hit him hard on the back of the head and sounds of high-fives could be heard in the background.  
  
"Two points," yelled Flash Thompson contemptibly.  
  
Gwen Stacy was sat in the corner of the room, she had tried to sit next to Peter but there'd been no empty seats. The jocks all sat around Peter in order to torment him more efficiently. She looked on at the scene with a twisted mouth and concerned eyes that made her all the more beautiful in Peter's eyes, but when Flash blew her a kiss she fired a look of such contempt at him he visibly wilted. Peter laughed silently to himself, Flash Thompson being scared by a short blonde girl, it was like Mike Tyson having a phobia of cheese or something. Peter then cocked his head to ponder the concept of Tyson being afraid of cheese and was lost in thought until the bell rang, as he shook himself to consciousness he gathered his books.  
  
"Now I want you all to read the chapter I mentioned earlier and don't forget to be early tomorrow for the field trip," the Teacher shouted after his disappearing students, "we're leaving at nine, with or without any latecomers."  
  
"Oh crap," Peter sighed to himself, "Mr. Jackson?"  
  
"Yes Peter."  
  
"I forgot my slip, can I still go?" Peter asked hopefully.  
  
"I'm sorry Peter but the school has a responsibility to the parents," his teacher replied shaking his head, "after what happened last year with the trip to the observatory we can only take students who give in a signed permission slip."  
  
"So I can't go?" Peter asked.  
  
"No Peter, you can't go," he replied.  
  
"Peter," Gwen Stacy called out from her position stood in the doorway, "my parents didn't even know about the trip so I'm not going either."  
  
"That means we'd both be stuck studying here all day," Peter said, realising what she was saying.  
  
"You wouldn't mind that?" she asked coyly.  
  
"No," Peter said smiling, "in fact I'm already looking forward to it."  
  
"Great," Gwen said, "you busy tonight?"  
  
"Not really, why?"  
  
"Well, I know I asked you to call me and stuff," Gwen looked straight at him with her blue eyes but her fidgeting feet and hands gave away her anxiety, "but would you mind."  
  
She trailed off and let her words hang for a moment until Peter interjected, "Just waiting 'til tomorrow? That's okay, I should probably be studying or something."  
  
Gwen cut him off, "No I," and trailed again before gathering her confidence, "I thought you might like to come over tonight," she said hopefully, "to study of course," she added.  
  
"Yeah that sounds great," Peter and Gwen moved out into the corridor and started off down towards the cafeteria, Peter then remembered something, "I should tell my aunt and uncle, they might get worried or angry or something."  
  
"Well then Mr. Parker I could walk you home," Gwen said keeping in step with him, hugging her brown calculus book to her chest.  
  
"Sounds good," Peter felt a little rumble on his stomach, "you want to get some lunch?"  
  
"I'd love to," Gwen replied as they walked off happily together down the hall.  
  
Peter and Gwen walked all the way to both of their houses, after a brief diversion in which Gwen stifled a laugh at meeting his aunt and uncle and openly fell into hysterics at Peter's cowboy duvet. Unluckily for him his usual one was being washed and aunt May had put the cowboy one on for the day, Gwen thought it was hilarious and even Peter laughed a little. They were on the way to Gwen's when Peter hit on an idea. It was starting to get dark and, being a policeman's daughter, Gwen was feeling a little paranoid but a lot safer with Peter than she would have by herself.  
  
"I've just got a great idea," Peter said into the stillness.  
  
"Sorry to burst your bubble but sliced bread's been done," Gwen said dryly.  
  
"Funny," Peter remarked sarcastically, "but you wanted to go see that exhibition at the museum right?"  
  
"The field trip?" Gwen said before adding, "Actually I don't really like spiders."  
  
"Oh," Peter paused to think, "I was just thinking we could go see it tomorrow, but if you don't like them I'll just go alone."  
  
"Yeah I'm kind of phobic to tell the truth," Gwen admitted, "I was glad when I realised I couldn't go."  
  
"Oh well, whatever floats you boat."  
  
"I'm really sorry, how about I make it up to you?" Gwen pleaded, "how about that new Samuel L. Jackson movie? You free Friday?"  
  
"Yeah that sounds great," during the conversation they had reached Gwen's house and she began to walk up the steps, "is this your place?"  
  
"Yep, home sweet home," she replied, "or it will be in a couple weeks."  
  
They both laughed and went inside, spending the rest of the night sneaking furtive looks at one another and trying but failing to concentrate on studying. Eventually they gave up and started watching TV, at about eleven Peter noticed the time and rushed out of the house and home. He was half an hour behind curfew and tired but really happy, he had a date on Friday night even if it was only as friends she was so amazing he couldn't believe his luck. 


	3. Once Bitten

Dear Readers, (if I have any) I haven't given any disclaimers or whatever so far because I didn't want to ruin anything I had going. I wasn't even going to put it in here but I'm kinda afraid of being sued so..  
  
The characters in this that were created by Stan (the man) Lee and (according to some) Steve Ditko are not in any way mine, however any original characters are all mine. I'm not using this to make any money just to satisfy my own strange urges, even though to be honest a lot of the characters are Marvel's in name only as I've changed them so much.  
  
This chapter is very wordy, as is much of my work, but please hang on because the next chapter is where it all takes off and the ending's a corker. So please stay tuned, same bat-time, same bat-channel. By the way I also tend to update very quickly so if you can, check pretty much every day.  
  
Chapter Three: Once Bitten.  
  
The next day was uneventful, he and Gwen spent the day in the library by themselves chatting and laughing and attempting to study. There were too many distractions though, Peter himself only managed half a page of notes. It was mostly because whenever Gwen was really hard at work she made a strange face and Peter couldn't help but watch her in her torturous thinking. However much Peter wanted it not to, the day finally ended, and after walking Gwen home he felt like he was on top of the world. It was then he remembered about visiting the Spider exhibit at the museum, he didn't want to miss their genetic manipulation demonstration so he hopped on the subway straight away. He stood between a businessman and a tramp on the subway, the smell of months without showering from one side and Christmas present aftershave on the other. Other than the interesting cocktail of odours the journey was rather uneventful, Peter was quite happy listening to the news being broadcast over the radio.  
  
"When questioned on the recent rash of murders in the city newly instated Police Captain Stacy declined to comment," a female voice buzzed from the speaker.  
  
"With interview technique like that he'll sure go far in the NYPD," laughed her male co-presenter. The female voice laughed too and the tramp started muttering conspiracy theories under his breath.  
  
Peter gleefully left the subway car and stepped onto the platform, his feet nearly slipping on a spilt puddle of some soft drink, upon regaining his footing he marched onwards to the museum with a small skip in his step. He started thinking about Gwen's father, and wondered why he wouldn't comment on the murders, but then if he didn't have any information then he wouldn't want to look stupid on his first major case. Whilst partly lost in his thoughts he'd managed to find his way to the steps of the museum, a huge spider design was emblazoned on drapes hanging beside the large double glass doors of the museum. Peter pushed the left hand door open and walked in, after paying a small entry fee he was advised to hurry or he would miss the genetic manipulation demonstration.  
  
Inside the exhibit Dr. Alexis Jones held a spider suspended from a web attached to her glove, it slowly webbed it's way back into the glass box from which it came. Alexis used another gloved finger to catch the spider, as if juggling it, stopping it reaching the cage. She was making a speech about the spiders as Peter noisily burst through the door to her left, what happened next would change the life of Peter Parker forever. The actions of the inexperienced Dr. Alexis Jones would forever destroy the young man's chance of having a normal life ever again. What was this action? She simply turned around, but in her inexperience and clumsiness her hand hovered just to the right of the cage and the miraculous spider let itself drop from its web-line. Landing on the floor to the right of Alexis' foot the spider scrambled in a frenzy to escape recapture, its speed was remarkable and it would have appeared to any onlooker to be a blur of red and black. However there were no onlookers, nobody saw it and nobody knew what was happening. Dr. Alexis Jones shot Peter a nasty look and returned to her speech, oblivious of the life-altering mistake she had just made. Peter stood at the back of the room, a good three feet from the nearest spectator. The room was almost empty anyway, what with it being the last show of the day there were only about five people in the room and all of them were too distracted by the demonstration. Too distracted to see a little black and red blur making its way up Peter's leg, up his body and along the underside of his arm. Peter shivered from the cold of the room, to the spider it felt like an earthquake, it fell from his elbow onto the back of his hand. In distress it worked its legs into Peter's skin to secure itself, he felt a slight tickle on his hand and flashed a look at it.  
  
"What the?" Peter whispered to himself as he spotted the spider, moving his hand up to get a closer look.  
  
The spider felt more movement, this time faster, taking the little arachnid higher. What could only be described as fear gripped the spider's tiny mind and its instincts took over as it unfurled its mandibles and bit down hard on Peter Parker's hand. The spider could feel its genetically altered venom coursing through the veins on which it stood, then a burning sensation as the skin blushed bright red with pain.  
  
"Ow," Peter quietly cursed under his breath, bringing down his other hand and squashing the small spider. Peter rubbed his hand, feeling a little queasy but oblivious to the dramatic changes in his body. The chains of DNA in every single cell of his body simultaneously unravelled and re-made themselves, doing in a split second what took evolution billions of years. Peter suddenly became aware of a clock ticking, slowly the second hand made its way around the white circle of its face, and by the time it had done one full turn the process was complete. Peter was changed, irreversibly, from that day on cursed to be no longer human. There were new organs forming in his wrists and hands, new glands in his finger tips and a whole new sensory system developing in the back of his neck, at the peak of his spine. Understandably, Peter was feeling a little odd.  
  
Peter stumbled in his front door, leaving way before the demonstration was over. He just felt so odd, every muscle in his body ached and his head thumped. Underneath the skin Peter's muscles were growing, not bigger but more efficient, unnoticeably the fibres of his muscles were multiplying at an alarming rate. Soon his muscles would be many times stronger than a normal man's, more efficient and deadly powerful. He staggered up to his room after mumbling his way through an excuse to his aunt and uncle, collapsing on his bed he could not keep his eyes open as the changes to his body were draining him of all his energy. As he fell asleep he began to shake and shiver, his body convulsing from the shock of new organs worming their way into his central nervous system. Growing from small buds to pulsating organs alive with blood and full of sticky webbing silk, tiny spinnerets protruding from the skin of his wrists and glands in his fingers releasing super-strong adhesive enzymes from pores in his fingertips. Peter finally lost consciousness from the pain and the strange feeling of his entire body stretching and changing, becoming something wholly different.  
  
"Something's wrong with the boy May," Ben Parker said from behind his newspaper, the Daily Bugle.  
  
"He loves meatloaf," May Parker replied, dealing out some vegetables onto her and Ben's plates. Peter had long since fallen unconscious and his plate remained empty.  
  
"Not that May," Ben put the Bugle onto an empty chair, "he's been studying too hard, spending all his time up in his room."  
  
"He's just trying to make his parents proud."  
  
"They're dead May," Ben almost shouted back, looking over his shoulder to be sure he hadn't woken Peter, "sometimes I worry Peter still hasn't realised that."  
  
"Why don't you have a little talk with him," May said trying to calm him down, "see what's bothering him, if we can help?"  
  
Later that night, around three in the morning, Peter woke up from a nightmare and shot out of bed. A muscle spasm in one of his amazing muscles was enough to launch him from the bed and onto the ceiling. Several seconds later Peter realised he hadn't hit the bed again and opened his eyes, what he saw was the ceiling, up really close. He trailed his eyes down his sleeve to his hands, his fingertips stuck to the plaster and his socked feet doing the same. His body was hanging from the tips of his fingers and toes, he was literally stuck on the ceiling.  
  
"Huh," Peter whispered to himself, "this is new." 


	4. With Great Power

Dear Readers, I'm sorry about this chapter. I truly am. Most of you will get bored as it's really long, but I had a lot to do in it. This is where I fork away from the Stan Lee origin, this is where the darkness comes in, this is where you get some action. There's a lot in this chapter and it probably should have been two or three but I wanted to do it all in one. Some aspects of the story aren't a realistic as they could be but please forgive me, it was a really hard chapter to write and I'm not too happy with it. However all of you who stick with it will probably be surprised at the ending, it's a corker and I personally love it. Although it's kinda rushed because I wanted to keep the chapter below six pages. Hope you stick with it because this really was a labour of love and I really worked hard on it.  
  
None of Marvel's characters are mine, they're somebody else's good idea (damn them) and I'm just stealing them. This is not intended for monetary gain, just for my own enjoyment and others too. Sorry if it's illegal or anything.  
  
Chapter Four: With Great Power  
  
The next morning Peter got up out of bed and stretched away the aches of the previous night, noticing the tiny spinnerets on his wrists he shrugged. He also noticed his muscles had filled out a little, his arms were much bigger and he felt stronger.  
  
"Oh well, it's not like my life can get any weirder," he mumbled to himself. He took off yesterday's clothes, the ones he had slept in, and put on something clean. A red t-shirt and a pair of baggy black jeans, he normally wouldn't dress down so much for school but he had a funny feeling he wasn't going to school that day. He hadn't skipped in a while, not since he'd got his last report card, but he needed to understand what was going on with his body. He reasoned it was the spider that had done it because of the wall crawling, but he didn't know what else had changed. He rushed downstairs and picked up his school bag, waving goodbye to a startled aunt May as he slid past her in the corridor and out the door.  
  
"Wasn't he sick?"  
  
"He's a teenager, his body's changing so fast it gets tired once in a while," Ben replied with his nose in today's Bugle, "probably just a twelve hour bug or something."  
  
"Peter," a girl's voice called out from behind him.  
  
Peter turned to see Gwen Stacy, "Oh hey Gwen."  
  
"I'm glad I caught up with you, why were you going so fast?"  
  
"I just didn't notice," Peter replied nonchalantly, "what did you want?"  
  
"I just wanted to walk with you," she replied coyly, "how was the spider exhibit?"  
  
"Oh uh," Peter stammered, "sorry Gwen I'm, uh, not going to school today."  
  
"Peter what's wrong?"  
  
"N-nothing, I just have some things to do that's all," Peter started to get defensive, "why are you asking, it's none of your business."  
  
"I thought we were friends," she replied, hurt.  
  
"Well I'm busy today," Peter retorted, starting off at a pace away from Gwen.  
  
"Fine," Gwen shouted after him, turning and walking towards Midtown High. She walked slowly with her books hugged close to her chest, stopping after a while she leant against a lamp post and wiped a single tear from her face before moving on.  
  
'Hey beautiful," shouted an arrogant voice from the road, it belonged to Flash Thompson.  
  
"Hey Flash," Gwen turned to face him, having put her party girl face on, "I missed the bus."  
  
"Well how about a lift sugar?"  
  
"I can't say no to Midtown's star quarter-back," she replied and hopped into the passenger seat of his convertible. A screech of brakes and she was gone.  
  
Peter was none the wiser, by the time Gwen and Flash had arrived at Midtown he was on the subway going into the city. The car was refreshingly empty that morning, but he supposed it had something to do with the recent rash of murders. The subway was dark and scary to most people, but Peter had been travelling on it all his life and he was used to it. When he left the Manhattan central station he walked for a while until he found what he'd come into the city for, an abandoned construction site away from the main roads. It was going to be an expansion of a nearby department store but they ran out of money, now it stands unfinished like a monument to bad planning just waiting for the new financial year. But for now it was a quiet little place for Peter to explore his new abilities, but first he had to get in. Peter looked the eight-foot high fence up and down then sat back on his heels to think a moment, suddenly he leaped over the fence and landed gracefully as a gymnast on the other side. He dusted his arms down and nodded approvingly before starting towards the tall metal scaffold.  
  
"Whoa," Peter breathed, quite reasonably as he was stuck to the inside of the scaffold six stories above the ground. If whatever had happened to him was temporary then he would be meeting a very sticky end, but he had a feeling somewhere in the back of his mind that it was permanent. He looked at his wrist and found the spinneret, wondering what would happen he rubbed it and a stream of white web shot out from it. He stretched his fingers out until he felt the muscles pull and suddenly another stream of webbing shot out and attached itself to another scaffold beam. Experimentally Peter jumped off the beam and swung on the web, whipping around the metal frame of the scaffold and landing on another beam. He shouted an exclamation of freedom and waved his arm in the air with joy at the greatness of it all then jumped off and started swinging away from the scaffold and out into the concrete jungle.  
  
"Yeah!" Peter shouted as he swung between the huge skyscrapers like a new- age Tarzan, thanks to some hidden instinct passed on from the spider his web never missed its target. Feeling the cold up high above the streets Peter landed on a large billboard for a breather, looking at what he was stuck to made him smile. There was a picture of a huge man in a black leotard next to some huge red words.  
  
"This Friday come and beat me at Madison Square Garden and win $2000!" It screamed at him, underneath were some smaller black words, "Entrants must be 21 or over, entrants enter at their own risk as no compensation will be paid."  
  
"Damn," Peter whispered to himself, "I don't look over 21, I know I could beat him too." Then suddenly an idea popped into his head, if he went in disguise or in costume then it would be hard for them to tell his age. He was feeling great, and he could really use the cash. Speaking about cash, he'd need some to buy the costume. There was a costumer on 39th Street and Peter sprang off the billboard and swung off in that direction.  
  
Three hours and one hastily made costume later Peter stepped in his front door having already climbed in his window and hidden the costume, he was about an hour late home but that wasn't unusual. His aunt and uncle were sat at the dining table, Peter knew something was wrong as his uncle wasn't reading the Bugle and his aunt wasn't pottering around cooking something. They knew he'd skipped, they'd found those magazine's he'd borrowed from Harry, his internet bill was huge, he'd been caught at one of those things. He lowered his head respectfully and waved limply.  
  
"Hey," Peter said quietly.  
  
"Come sit down Peter," his uncle said, there was a piece of paper on the table. It was folded like it'd been in an envelope, so perhaps he wasn't about to get shouted at.  
  
"We need to tell you something Peter," his aunt said, pulling out a small scrapbook, "have a seat."  
  
"What's up?" Peter sat down, now quite concerned.  
  
"This is a letter from the government," Ben pushed the open letter toward Peter, "it's about your parents."  
  
Peter read through the short letter once, looked up at his aunt and uncle, then again, "What the hell is this?"  
  
"Your parents worked for the Secret Service," Ben replied.  
  
"Says here they were traitors," Peter said angrily.  
  
"That's the official line," Ben said trying to calm Peter down, "they really don't know what happened exactly."  
  
"This letter's dated ten years ago, when were you going to tell me!?"  
  
"Peter we." Aunt May replied.  
  
"Whatever, I'm going to bed."  
  
Friday came and Peter skipped again, not seeing the point in going to school if he could make it big in show business. He spent the day at the construction site practising his strength, he'd found out that he could easily lift ten or so times his body weight, he'd picked up several large blocks in one hand without breaking a sweat. He'd also been wearing the costume all day to see whether it was okay to wear during the match. It was a skin-tight bodysuit with a red triangle that started at the waist and widened to the shoulders, it also had a full-faced mask with two round holes for him to see out of. He'd have to get something cool to put in those eyeholes, he had some mirrored plastic lenses somewhere at home he'd 'borrowed' from the science lab. He was pretty annoyed at his aunt and uncle keeping the truth about his parents from him, but he figured that the past was the past and that he should focus on the evening's business.  
  
"I need some gloves," Peter said to himself, thinking aloud that he would need something thin but strong like the bodysuit to stop his hands getting all scratched up. He brushed the dust from the construction site off himself and swung off towards home, he was going to eat and shower before he left for the wrestling.  
  
Peter swung in his bedroom window, not bothering being stealthy anymore because his aunt and uncle couldn't really lecture him after last night. He showered and dried off, putting his costume in a duffel bag and putting on some rough clothes he walked downstairs to get some food. He made a bacon sandwich and was sat on the sofa watching TV whilst he ate, then his aunt came down from her sewing room and stood aghast watching him. She was surprised he was so calm after yesterday, but Peter tended to bottle up things that upset him ever since his parent's death, it was beginning to worry her what would happen when he couldn't keep it all bottled up.  
  
"Peter, I didn't hear you come in."  
  
"I was quiet," Peter said without looking at her, "didn't feel like a scene."  
  
"Oh," May replied quietly as Ben came in the front door, Peter finished his sandwich and went to pick up his bag.  
  
"Hello Peter," Ben greeted as he put down the shopping bags he had brought from the grocers.  
  
"Bye uncle Ben, I'm going out," Peter said as he put his bag on his shoulder.  
  
"Where are you going Peter?" May asked him.  
  
"Into the city," Peter replied stepping up to the door, "I'll be back by eleven."  
  
"I'll give you a lift, it's not safe for a young man in the city at night," Ben said, but it wasn't an offer as Peter knew Ben wouldn't let him go otherwise.  
  
"I was just going to take the train," Peter offered trying to convince his uncle.  
  
"Nonsense I haven't put the car away yet," Ben said pulling his keys from his pocket. It was settled then, Peter would just have to be careful.  
  
The car journey was awful, Peter was quiet because he was still mad at Ben and Ben was quiet because Peter refused to give an exact destination. They crossed the bridge into Manhattan a few minutes ago and they were now deep into the city, Peter finally had enough of the razor-like atmosphere and spoke up.  
  
"This'll do," Peter said and Ben pulled the car over, "I'll see you here at eleven then I guess."  
  
"You can catch the train back if you like," Ben replied, Peter was getting a funny feeling in the back of his neck like pins and needles. His uncle was acting very suspiciously.  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Here's some money for the fare," Ben handed Peter a five dollar bill, "don't worry about the time, it's not a school night."  
  
"Ok," Peter said, he reasoned that his uncle must be feeling guilty about last night but that dull tingling just wouldn't go away.  
  
"Bye Peter," Ben said and drove off with a screech of brakes. The car wasn't even round the corner before Peter was off on his way towards the Garden.  
  
"Spider-Man," Peter said to the registration woman, "with a hyphen between the spider and the man."  
  
"Ok," the exasperated woman said, "you understand that the Garden accepts no responsibility and any injuries you may incur are your own fault?"  
  
"Yes," Peter said excitedly, finding his voice sounded strange and muffled through his mask. He was about to walk off to the waiting area when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to see his uncle Ben's arm attached to that hand.  
  
"Outside," he said, "now."  
  
"Crap," Peter sighed as his uncle led the way out of the Garden and onto the pavement, the whole road outside the Garden was empty save for a drunk and a tramp, which was unusual but Peter was a bit pre-occupied to think about that.  
  
"What the hell did you think you were doing Peter?"  
  
"Just making a little money," Peter replied, now feeling slightly more confident.  
  
"I wanted to make sure you were safe so I followed along after you, when I saw you go in there I couldn't believe my eyes," uncle Ben walked up to be closer to Peter, "you could've got really hurt in there Peter."  
  
"Yeah right," Peter said arrogantly, "you're just some tired old man trying to live up to his dead little brother," the mean streak in Peter's voice came almost out of nowhere, but in truth it had come from the anger Peter kept bottled up inside of himself.  
  
Ben put both hands on Peter's shoulders, "What's wrong with you Peter?" Ben said concerned, "what happened to the good boy I raised?"  
  
"He grew up and got tired of your hypocritical shit," Peter replied with a mean smile on his face. Ben pushed Peter away with both hands as if disgusted then Peter made the biggest mistake of his life, Peter pushed back. His uncle flew back with the force of Peter's enhanced strength and hit the wall of a nearby building with a resounding crack, he slid to the floor and blood appeared on the pavement. There, on that lonely street, Peter had just killed his uncle.  
  
AUTHOR"S NOTE: Sorry everybody, I truly am sorry to all those uncle Ben fans out there but I did say it wasn't for purists. Heck, Peter get's straight Ds for crap's sake!! I would really appreciate reviews and/or emails about this, especially criticism!! (constructive of course) Thanks for actually reading the whole damn thing, hope I haven't contributed hugely to all your phone bills! 


	5. Night Stalkers

Dear Readers, just a short one this time as the last one was huge but I'd like to say thank you to those who have reviewed (all 5 of you) and that if more people review I am encouraged to write more. At the moment I have three story arcs planned but the less reviews I get the less interested I am to continue. I would especially love feedback on uncle Ben's death and my new villainous creation. Hope you enjoy and please R&R.  
  
Chapter Five: Night Stalkers  
  
Sandy Brown was walking down one of New York's finest alleys, it was dirty and steam was coming from a nearby vent making the place look like foggy old London Town. Her high heels clicked on the pavement and her tiny belt of a skirt made an enticing swishing noise, she was dressed for work. Sandy didn't have a normal nine to five job, unless it was nine pm to five am, she was a prostitute. She'd just left her tiny apartment and was on her way to her usual spot, she'd walked down the very same alley a thousand times on her way out in the evening but tonight something was different. Her heels clicked just a beat faster and she looked around, the shadows moved more than usual tonight and she thought she heard the dull thud of more footsteps. The rhythmic clicking of her heels turned into a run and she looked back to see a flash of something metal, a knife she thought, she kept watching behind her and running for all her life's worth.  
  
"Hello my pretty," said a male voice in front of her.  
  
She gasped and turned to see a man dressed like a biker, apart from he wore a white collared shirt under his leathers, she ran up and wrapped her arms around his chest and began to cry.  
  
"Oh, what's wrong dear?" he asked her, "Anything old Jack can help you with?"  
  
"I thought somebody was following me, with a knife," she said and turned back to see whether her pursuer was still there, "but I can't see him."  
  
"Look behind you my dear," said the man as he pulled a scalpel from his pocket. He spun the blade around his fingers and then held it firmly in a surgical grip, he grabbed Sandy by the throat and lifted her until her face was only millimetres from his. He then squeezed with his hand to show she couldn't resist and licked along the length of her neck, then he whispered into her ear, "Having fun dear?"  
  
The blood on the pavement had made a neat pool around the body as the street stayed in eerie silence, the lonesome figure of the murderer stood and stared at his work. He stood with his shoulders hunched over, his tall muscular frame showing through his clothes, blood was seeping towards his feet and he started edging back.  
  
"So much blood," the murderer muttered to himself, "there's so much."  
  
The tramp that had been sat across the road had come over to stand by him, he was dishevelled and dirty but still in possession of all his sanity, unlike most people living on the street in New York. He stepped around the blood and felt for a pulse on the neck of the body, he pulled his hand away and looked at the murderer.  
  
"I didn't," the murderer said, " it was."  
  
"You killed him," the tramp said, "he's dead."  
  
"I didn't," Peter replied, "I just," he couldn't speak properly and he was probably in shock.  
  
"You killed him you freak!" the tramp shouted at him.  
  
Peter was crying under his mask and it took his entire being not to go to his uncle, to hold him and cry until he could not cry anymore. But he heard sirens, he'd been stood there for at least five minutes and somebody had called the police. As much as he knew he deserved punishment for what he'd done, he also knew it'd kill aunt May if she found out and he didn't want to go to prison either. He stretched out his arm and shot a web to the corner of a nearby building and pulled himself up and into full swing, tears streamed from Peter's eyes slowly and only his spider-instincts kept him in the sky. He swung for a long time until he'd cried his eyes dry, it was about twelve o'clock now and the duffel bag on his shoulder was getting heavier by the minute. He had to stop before he got too tired to swing and he landed on the head of a gargoyle on the spire of a church a mile or two from the Garden. He slipped his bag off onto a nearby ledge and pulled his mask off roughly, his face was tear-stained and red and his eyes were wide and bloodshot. He crouched on the very edge of the gargoyle's head and looked out over the city, the sounds from below rose up to meet him, sirens and the screams of the innocent. He was reminded of a moment long ago with his uncle Ben, he'd found an old home video in some of his parent's things and shown it to his uncle.  
  
"That was one of the last things your father did before he died," Ben told the young Peter, "he asked me to look after it for him. It's very important, to the government."  
  
"Wow," the young Peter replied, "what's on it?"  
  
"It's not important," Ben deflected the question, "what's important is what your father told me the day he gave it to me. He said that the tape could literally start a war, that he'd been given that power by the tape."  
  
"Really, did you watch it uncle Ben?"  
  
"Nope," Ben smiled, "your father entrusted me with great power and with that comes great responsibility."  
  
Peter smiled at that, how appropriate was that little phrase to his present problems. By some insane accident of science he'd been given great power and with that came great responsibility, but he'd ignored the calling and he'd wasted his abilities and he'd killed his uncle Ben. He knew he had great power, but what about his responsibility, who was it to and what was it? Sirens blared below him again and he stood up. He'd thought his responsibility was to himself, to look after number one, but doing so had got his uncle killed. Now he knew what he had to do, his responsibility was to honour his uncle's memory, to seek redemption. He would help those that could not help themselves, he would fight their battles, he would save their lives. He watched a police car speed along the street below and was about to follow, but his aunt May needed him tonight, she would cry for her murdered husband in the arms of his killer.  
  
Police captain Stacy walked purposefully onto the crime scene, lifting the ubiquitous yellow tape and walking over to the pathologist who'd examined the body.  
  
"Steve," he greeted.  
  
"Hi George," the pathologist replied, "you heard anything about this one yet?"  
  
"It's him again, right?"  
  
"If it's not I'll eat my hat," Steve pulled back the plastic sheet over the body to expose some crudely carved words, scratched into the naked young woman's body. The words read "To Captain Stacy". He flipped over the body to expose more words on her back, it seemed as though the killer had used her to send a message, a message signed "From Hell". 


	6. Urban Legends

Dear Readers, hope you're enjoying the end of the first story arc as I'm hoping to finish it at chapter eight. Just to warn you that the next story arc is going to be a corker, the villain is original again and he's going to rock your world. To answer many people's emails and one reviewer's comment, I'm using Word for Macintosh as I have a Mac (obviously) and that's why my line spacing is always double what it should be because otherwise when I upload it to ff.net it comes out without line breaks and it reads terribly. Those of you looking for an example can read my story: The Miracle. I'd also like to recommend Spider-Man: Reborn by The Hammer as I've read half of it and it's pretty good, while you're waiting for me to update of course. Thank you to all reviewers (especially Apteryx who reviewed several times) and those who've taken the time to email me personally, enjoy this chapter and keep reviewing. Yours, True Believer.  
  
Chapter Six: Urban Legends  
  
It was Saturday morning and Peter awoke way too early for the miniscule amount of sleep he'd gotten last night, he'd be lucky if he ever had a good night's sleep again after what he'd done. He could hear his aunt going through the daily routine downstairs and guessed she was trying to be as normal as possible for Peter, he'd better exchange the same courtesy to her. Slipping on some rough clothes he slowly padded bare foot downstairs, his aunt was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and Peter could hear his uncle's newspaper being shoved unceremoniously through the letterbox. Peter went over and pulled the Bugle from the hands of the unsuspecting paperboy to read the front page, the headline seemed incredibly unusual. I read:  
  
JACK'S BACK  
  
ripper terrorises new york  
  
"Huh," Peter said as he walked into the kitchen, "oh no," he noticed another smaller headline underneath about uncle Ben's murder. He couldn't bear to read the article but two words stuck out at him like sore thumbs, "Murder" and "Freak". It also mentioned uncle Ben's name, a fact that would soon annoy Peter.  
  
"Morning Peter," aunt May said, "why don't you sit down for breakfast?"  
  
"Sure aunt May," Peter said distractedly, May ignored it however as Peter had good reason to be distracted. Peter sat down at the table in his chair and aunt May brought three plates of cooked breakfast out, placing one by each chair.  
  
"There you go, eat up," she said happily as she sat down for hers. Both she and Peter simultaneously noticed the third plate, May stood up and quietly took it back into the kitchen. When she came back Peter decided to try and get her mind off Ben.  
  
"Seen the headlines today?"  
  
"You mean the Jack the Ripper thing? Yes," May sliced up her bacon, "it was on the radio while I was cooking."  
  
"Bugle's got photos," Peter said nonchalantly, "they very nearly put me off my breakfast."  
  
"Wow, it takes a lot to put you off of food," she paused but could not contain her curiosity, "what are they of?"  
  
"A dead woman with words sliced into her back," aunt May gestured for him to elaborate, "From Hell."  
  
"Oh my."  
  
"Some lunatic is murdering prostitutes to send messages to Captain Stacy," Peter said between shovelling forkfuls of bacon into his mouth.  
  
"Isn't he that girl Gwen's father?" Aunt May asked, "You know, the one you're always talking about."  
  
"Gwen!" Peter said with realisation, he'd forgotten to cancel their date and he'd been so rude to her on Thursday. He shot up and ran up to have a shower, he needed to run round Gwen's as soon as possible to apologise.  
  
"Teenagers," May sighed to herself before continuing with her breakfast.  
  
It was a hot day, stifling, and Peter had on his costume beneath his street clothes just in case something happened. He walked for twenty minutes before reaching Gwen's, rapping on the door with his knuckles. A man in a long brown trench coat came to the door and stepped out onto the porch, he was in his late thirties and had light brown hair but he looked like he hadn't shaved in days.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hi I'm Peter Parker," Peter introduced himself, "I'm here to see Gwen."  
  
"You're Peter Parker?"  
  
"Yes," Peter was getting concerned, "why?"  
  
"I wouldn't want to be you after last night."  
  
"Neither would I," Peter assumed the man knew about his uncle.  
  
"I'm Captain Stacy by the way," he introduced himself, "George if Gwen likes you."  
  
"Thanks," Peter gestured towards the door, "can I go in?"  
  
"You can, just shut the door after you, I'm going to work."  
  
"Oh, it was nice meeting you sir."  
  
"I hope to see you again Peter," Captain Stacy said as he got into his car, Peter could see the berry light on the dash denoting that it was a police car.  
  
Peter stepped into the house and called out, "Gwen?" to a seemingly empty house. He stayed stood in the sitting room and called out as though speaking to somebody, "I'm sorry."  
  
No answer.  
  
"I've not been feeling myself lately," Peter called out as way of explanation, "I've been getting used to some changes and I know I acted like a real idiot."  
  
"Yeah you did," a girl's voice came down the stairs, closely followed by the girl herself. "I just." Peter paused wondering whether to tell her the truth, but he couldn't, she'd hate him for what he'd done to uncle Ben.  
  
"You just what?"  
  
"Last night," Peter continued, "my uncle," he couldn't even say it, "he was murdered."  
  
"Oh my god Peter," Gwen said as she ran up and embraced him with a hug. Peter stood there limp and not returning it, "It's ok to be upset Peter."  
  
Peter pushed Gwen away so she could see his eyes, "I'm done crying for uncle Ben," he said purposefully, "all I've got to do is keep the promise I made him."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I can't tell you, but it means that I'm going to be pretty busy," Peter walked away and stood with his back to her, "I need to be alone for a while."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I need you," Peter replied and Gwen smiled, "but only as a friend."  
  
"That's fine with me Peter," Gwen lied, "I'll wait as long as you need."  
  
"Thank you," Peter said, "I have to go, I've got some things to do."  
  
"Bye Peter," Gwen said as he walked out of her house, "goodbye," she repeated and her fake smile faded as she leant against the back of her door and slid down to a seated position on the floor. She wanted to cry, but felt too guilty, how could she be upset that Peter needed space after his uncle was murdered.  
  
Night fell over the city and the vibrant nightlife was being born. However two killers stepped out that night too, one a young man eager to fulfil a promise to his unintended victim. The amazing Spider-Man was swinging from building to building through the concrete jungle leaving a trail of sticky white vines, he landed on a familiar ledge next to a familiar gargoyle and patted it on the head almost playfully.  
  
"Hi Joe," he whispered to the silent stone monstrosity, "nice night, seen any people need saving tonight?"  
  
The silence said it all.  
  
Directly down in the street below a man was staggering along the street carrying a woman on his back, the woman was very scantily clad and looked a little like a cheap prostitute. Her eyes were closed and her mouth laid open as though she had passed out and the man was wearing biker's leathers and he stank of alcohol, he dropped her on the steps of the church and bent over her. Across the street a tramp was laid down in a doorway and his eyes were drawn to slits as he watched on the verge of consciousness, a glint of moonlight reflecting off metal shone into his eyes. The tiny sliver of steel span around in the man's hand, suddenly all appearance of drunkenness in the man disappeared and it was replaced by a hunched-over position above the woman's body. She was dead and had been for nearly an hour, the man ripped off the clothing on her upper body and made several swift and methodical cuts. He then made two long painstaking strokes before standing up and wiping her blood from his hands, walking towards the large arched doors of the church he pulled out a large knife, one that had to be flicked from a cover. He then carved three words into the old oak door.  
  
"Jack was here." 


	7. Fear the Reaper

Dear Readers, penultimate chapter here and it's a corker. The beginning part of this chapter takes place at the beginning of the previous chapter so don't get too confused. If you do get confused I suggest you look back, maybe have chapter six open in another window. Thanks again for all reviews and emails, the emails being especially welcome as I now tell friends I get fan mail!! True Believer  
  
Chapter Seven: Fear the Reaper  
  
Earlier that morning Captain Stacy had met Peter Parker on the steps of his home and after a short conversation had left in his car. He'd been on his way to the police station when suddenly his phone rang.  
  
"Stacy here,"  
  
"Hello Captain," said the voice on the other end, "we got another one."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Outside the bank on Mitre street," the voice was quivering, "you better get here soon Captain, it's not pretty."  
  
"On my way," Captain Stacy said, putting down the phone and walking to the door. Shortly before he got there he heard a knock, when he opened the door seconds later he saw a young man with brown hair and blue eyes and a slight muscular build stood on his doorstep.  
  
Several hours later Stacy stood in the conference room of the Manhattan Police station with pieces of paper spread all over the long table, there were several letters written in blood, forensic reports, photographs and newspaper articles. On the back wall of the room was a map of the island of Manhattan with several pins in what where seemingly random positions. Stacy was leaning over the table and looking at the photographs, the messages on the bodies, the letters, they were all addressed to him.  
  
"Why me?" Stacy asked himself, "Why did my first case have to be this?"  
  
"Maybe you did something bad in a past life?" a voice said from the entrance to the door.  
  
"Arthur?" the Captain greeted his younger brother, "you should have told me you were in town."  
  
"I wasn't planning on it," Arthur Stacy replied, "but I heard about the case and thought you might need some help," Arthur Stacy was a private investigator, and a very good one.  
  
"I need all the help I can get," George replied, "everything we have on the Ripper case is in this room, see what you can see."  
  
"You have five murders, correct?"  
  
"Yeah, all in a rough circular pattern in the same areas," George replied waving a hand at the map on the far wall. His brother moved closer to take a better look.  
  
"Do you get to the cinema much George?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Martha rented us a movie a few months back called 'From Hell' about Jack the Ripper's original crime spree," Arthur said, trying to get George to follow his train of thought.  
  
"Was it good?"  
  
"Very," Arthur replied pulling a pen from his pocket, "the original Ripper performed all his murders in the shape of a five pointed star," he drew several lines on the map and the shape of a star began to show.  
  
"Oh my god," George ran up to get a close look at the map, "how did I miss this, thanks Arthur."  
  
"Anything for my older brother," Arthur said as he walked out the door.  
  
George walked out into the main room of the station, "Ok, I need every available uniform and car around the area of St Martin's church," he added for emphasis, "yesterday."  
  
That evening in the pitch black of a New York night Spider-Man was sat on a familiar ledge next to a familiar gargoyle, "Hi Joe," he said, "seen anybody need saving tonight?" The gargoyle remained silent but the pain at the top of his spine screamed out to him, somebody was in trouble. Spider-Man had linked the sensations to danger after several jock's hit and runs, and now it was stronger than ever before, and it was directing him down below him. Towards the street and the huge oak doors of St Martin's church. "Not like I have anything else to do," he said as he crawled over the edge of the ledge where he sat and down the side of the ancient building. Behind his black lenses his eyes registered a man hunched over a woman's body in the steps of the church, Spider-Man let go of the wall and began to move in a mixture of falling and jumping towards the bottom of the structure. When he was halfway down he could see the man stand up and move to the door, somehow he knew she was dead and he'd killed her. She deserved revenge.  
  
The man in the motorbike leathers stood back and admired his carving, he laughed loudly like a pantomime villain before turning around to walk away. When he turned around he saw a man stood in front of him, the prostitute's body led between them.  
  
"You're him aren't you?" The costumed figure said, "The Ripper."  
  
Jack simply bowed before setting off at a pace into a run away from the fledgling hero, but after a few seconds he leapt over Jack's head and stood in front of the evil killer. Spider-Man took a step toward Jack and glared through his mask at the man's face, Jack broke the glare and ran past Spider-Man. He kept running on and on, he had to get away, the Lord told him so, he was chosen. Jack looked back to see an empty street behind him with Spider-Man nowhere to be seen.  
  
"You think this is how it feels Jack?" Spider-Man shouted out from the darkness, Jack looked around but could not see him, "how those defenceless young women feel?"  
  
"Shut up!" Jack shouted to the darkness, "It's not my fault that he chose me," Jack muttered to himself, "I didn't want this, the Lord works in mysterious ways."  
  
"Scared Jack?" Spider-Man said calmly, before leaping from the wall he clung to and into the street again, then running and leaping away. To Jack it seemed to be a red blur punctuating the darkness, taunting him as he had those poor young women.  
  
"No!" Jack shouted back, seeing his bike parked a few feet away.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Go away," Jack shouted as he leapt onto his bike and kicked the motor into life. Spider-Man cursed himself under his breath for taking this too far and leapt into swing in pursuit of the killer.  
  
Across town a woman dressed in a sharp skirt suit was stood looking out the floor to ceiling windows of her opulent offices at the top of her skyscraper. A police helicopter flew past and she shook her head.  
  
"That bumbling idiot will cost me everything," she said to herself, "perhaps it's time to get rid of him," she walked over to a hidden compartment in her wall and pulled out a laptop computer. This was no ordinary computer, but also a transmitter linked to literally hundreds of miniature receivers throughout the city. She tapped in a few commands before sending her message.  
  
"You've completed your task Jack, now it's time for you to join me in the beyond."  
  
Jack forced his Triumph motorcycle as fast as it would go, weaving in and out of the traffic as fast as Spider-Man swung from building to building in order to keep up. They were travelling down a particularly busy street and the police cars that had begun to follow had fallen behind as they were too big to weave between the traffic, Jack felt that familiar surge in his temple before hearing that familiar voice.  
  
"You've completed your task Jack, now it's time for you to join me in the beyond." Jack smiled, his ordeal was finally over and the Lord was inviting him to join him in the afterlife. Finally he could repent of his sins before his God and spend eternity by his side. Jack turned his bike into a narrow alley knowing only the masked man could follow, he had finally found a worthy adversary and he wanted him to watch as he joined the holy Father in Heaven. Jack had reached his destination and leapt from his bike into a roll, his bike skidded away across the pavement of the alley but he wouldn't need it anymore. He ducked into the storm cellar of his building, two small wooden doors set into the floor that nobody ever paid any attention to, nobody but him.  
  
Spider-Man landed in the alley and saw the bike laid on it's side off to one side, he walked over slowly and bent down to look at it when suddenly his spider-sense peaked from a low buzz to a huge spike and he cringed in pain. Then from behind him, from the doors of the storm cellar, came the loud crack of a gunshot. 


	8. An Opening Epilogue

Dear Readers, this chapter tries to tie up some loose ends from the first seven but probably doesn't. I personally love the ending for this chapter and the previous one but any criticism would be great. This is the last chapter of this story arc so you may have to wait a couple days to get the next arc to get started, I need to plan it really well as I didn't plan the first arc much at all. I'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you're all enjoying reading it, as ever I appreciate your emails and reviews. Anyone is welcome to send me ideas or whatever and if you really like the story I'll email it to you as soon as I post to ff.net. A couple of people have already asked for this and I'm setting up a mailing list so just ask and I'll do! You will get the latest chapter about 24 hours before ff.net does, direct to your inbox. I have lots of free time so have no worries, True Believer.  
  
Chapter Eight: An Opening Epilogue  
  
The echo of the shot rang out, a shivering wave of sound bouncing from wall to wall like some insane kangaroo. Deathly silence filled the alley, broken only by the unmistakable sound of a dead body slumping to the ground. The gun clattered along the pavement and skidded to a halt by the Spider-Man's feet.  
  
"Oh," was all Spider-Man could say. The Ripper's body lay sprawled halfway out of the storm cellar, his outstretched gloved hands seemingly reaching for the Spider-Man. Spider-Man stood motionless in the alley just staring at the body of Jack the Ripper, two killers, two possible paths, one a life of guilt and the other death. The Spider-Man looked at the gun at his feet and wondered, would everyone be better off if he'd taken Jack's route.  
  
"Probably," Spider-Man said and he picked up the gun. He pointed the weapon's deadly barrel at his own temple, his hands shivering and his legs shaking. It began to rain, hard, out of nowhere the sky opened and water emptied from the clouds. It soaked through his costume and ran over the Spider-Man from head to toe in a wave of water, suddenly a strange feeling washed over him. It was as though a wave of absolution had flowed over him, cleansing him of his crimes, bonding him to his mission. He realised he still had the gun pointed to his temple and lowered it to rest at his side, the gun felt so light in his hands. It astonished him that something so light could destroy so much.  
  
Captain Stacy led one of the search teams around the corner of the alley to see the body of Jack the Ripper and the Spider-Man stood over the body holding a gun to his temple, he waved out his arm to the rest of his team and crept forward pointing his service pistol at the ground. Suddenly it began to rain and the Spider-Man lowered the gun to his side, Stacy paid no attention to the rain and stepped forward and slowly raised his gun. The Spider-Man turned and looked straight at Stacy and spoke, "He shot himself."  
  
"Am I supposed to believe that?"  
  
"No, forensics will show the angle of the weapon," Spider-Man said turning to be face to face with Stacy.  
  
"I still can't let you go until we receive that evidence," Stacy took one hand off his gun to retrieve his handcuffs.  
  
"Yesterday I might have gone with you," Spider-Man took another step forward and was now an arm's length from Stacy, "but today, you'd never be able to hold me anyway."  
  
"You're probably right," Stacy replied, "but I'd kick myself every day for the rest of my life if I didn't try."  
  
"Good night George," the Spider-Man said before leaping extremely high in the darkness.  
  
"Good night Spider-Man," Stacy said as he lowered his gun. He walked over to where the Spider-Man had stood and picked up the gun he had held, Stacy opened the pistol to find it was empty. Jack had kept only one bullet, meant only for him. The Spider-Man was nowhere in sight and his team crept up close to the Captain.  
  
"What happened here sir?"  
  
"I don't really know," Stacy put his gun back in its holster, "but I have my suspicions. Get forensics here pronto, and call me a press conference."  
  
Captain Stacy stood on a blue police podium in the hallway of the police station with thirty or so reporters with notebooks and cameramen all clamouring for his attention, he waved both his arms as a signal for quiet then began his press conference.  
  
"Last night at around twelve pm the killer known as Jack the Ripper shot himself in the alleyway behind the Metropolitan Bank of New York," Captain Stacy held up an evidence bag containing Jack's revolver, "this was the weapon he used, however there is no evidence that it was used in any killings as it had only been fired once and the killer only seemed to have one bullet. Any other questions?"  
  
"Ben Urich Daily Bugle," said the goateed reporter Stacy picked from the crowd, "sources say that the vigilante known as Spider-Man may be involved, how do you respond to this?"  
  
"I hoped this wouldn't come up," Stacy replied, "Spider-Man was seen at the place where the body was dropped and at the scene of the killer's suicide, we do not as of yet know the exact details of his involvement but he should be aware he is wanted for questioning."  
  
"That will be all ladies and gentlemen, Captain Stacy has a family to go home to," the district attorney said, stepping between the Captain and the podium obviously annoyed at the Captain's answer.  
  
Peter sat on his bed with his costume on but his mask held in his hand, he'd been thinking about what he was doing with his life, his mission, and whether it was possible. Was last night an omen, he felt as though the rain was a sign, as if by killing himself Jack had started something. He needed to go back to that alley, something in that cellar called to him.  
  
"I'm going to church Peter," his aunt called out, blissfully unaware of her nephew's nocturnal activities.  
  
"Bye aunt May," Peter called, "be careful," he added. His aunt was going to the very church where Jack had left the last body and something just wasn't right about it all. But before he could do any investigating he had to get some sleep, he took off his costume and rolled it into a ball and put it under his bed then laid back under the covers. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow he fell asleep, a peaceful dreamless sleep.  
  
Night fell and after eating dinner with aunt May Peter snuck out of the house via the window, the LCD alarm clock by his bedside was already flashing eleven and Peter had to get some sleep tonight. He'd hardly slept since uncle Ben and he was starting to feel it, he'd also have to carefully avoid the police.  
  
Spider-Man crawled along the wall above the storm cellar down towards the two open doors, making sure no policemen where watching Spider-Man flung himself off the wall landing safely and silently in the cellar. He stood still in amazement, he'd seen these sort of places in movies but never thought somebody would be depraved enough to do it. There was arcane scripture written all over the walls and ceiling, all of it blood. The floor was boarded and his spider-sense was screaming at him to remove the floorboards, he used his strength to smash his way in and then began to pull up the boards. It revealed a pentagram, a five-pointed star in what appeared to be salt. The floorboards appeared to be hiding a secret compartment, the real floor was almost six inches below the boards and there were several black jars arranged around the circle. Spider-Man picked up one of the jars and opened it, it was too dark to see inside so he sniffed closely, then he retched and threw the jar down. He had smelled blood and on instinct thrown it down, but he'd obviously made a mistake as the blood spilt from the jar onto the pentagram and the white salt of the star turned red. Light began to shine forth from the shape and Spider-Man backed up to the wall as a huge pillar of flame shot up from the ground, through the building above and up so high it could be seen for miles around.  
  
Captain Stacy stepped out of his car outside the Metropolitan Bank of New York on his way to inspect the crime scene when a pillar of flame shot out through the building and showered debris all over the street. Stacy ducked and ran towards the cellar pulling his gun free from its holster. He rushed down the steps and saw Spider-Man backed against the wall, the pillar of flame erupting in the middle of the floor out of a star of red powder. Suddenly the pillar of fire shrank into the star and the powder itself began to burn.  
  
"What's going on here?" Stacy shouted at Spider-Man.  
  
"I don't know," Spider-Man replied, "why are you asking me?"  
  
"This seems more your territory than mine," Stacy replied, he pointed his gun at Spider-Man and released the safety catch.  
  
Suddenly a flash of light filled the room and a breeze came from out of nowhere, When Captain Stacy opened his eyes he and Spider-Man where no longer alone, a man almost seven feet tall with dark blonde hair and black eyes stood staring at them.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Stacy shouted, pointing his gun at him.  
  
"I am," the man replied, "The Bringer." 


	9. When the Clock Strikes Twelve

Dear readers, I'd like to welcome you on my return from the involuntary sabbatical broken bones forced upon me with a medium-sized probably mediocre chapter. This starts up right where we left off with the Captain and Spidey face to face with the terrifying Bringer. This chapter was written over a long period with a lot of stopping and stalling due to pain and laziness (and Masters of The Universe because that film rocks) so I can't promise the usual standard, but next time expect action, a super- powered showdown and a special Marvel guest star who may be appearing in future chapters depending on whether I enjoy writing for him. I hope you're not too disappointed with this and come back next time. Yours, True Believer.  
  
Chapter Nine: When the Clock Strikes Twelve  
  
One man, one Spider-Man, and someone distinctly other stood in a triangle in the storm cellar lair of the late Jack the Ripper. The man was Captain George Stacy, he stood at the feet of the stairs down into the cellar wearing his ever-present brown trench coat and pointing his service pistol directly at the other. The Spider-Man was Peter Parker, wracked with guilt after the accidental murder of his uncle Ben Peter swore on his uncle's memory to live up to the great responsibility that came with his great power. He stood with his back against the wall ready for any attack from the other. The other was the Bringer, mystical energy in human form summoned forth by the sacrifices of the Ripper to serve his earthly master. The Bringer stood stark naked and looked Spider-Man up and down with empty black eyes, writing him off as no threat the Bringer turned to Captain Stacy, noting the weapon in his hand he again dismissed him. The Bringer turned towards the steps and started walking towards them slowly and deliberately, Captain Stacy's instinct took over and he fired his weapon once into the forehead of the Bringer. The bullet span as it shot through the air, whipping and whirling the current around it's tiny form, burrowing deep into the head of the Bringer and out the other side embedding itself into the wall. Or at least it should have, instead it made contact with the Bringer's skin and fell sharply to the ground as if it had hit a wall of iron. The Bringer casually swatted the gun, and Captain Stacy, into the opposite wall with a minute display of incredible strength and minimal effort. The Spider-Man's mouth hung open under his mask and he shook himself back to reality before putting a gloved hand on the Bringer's shoulder.  
  
"Hey, I know that guy," Spider-Man said about Captain Stacy, "you're in for some serious pain buddy."  
  
The Bringer's mouth twisted into an insane snarling grin and he put out his right hand as one would to close a door, and Spider-Man joined Captain Stacy in his unconsciousness in the corner. The Bringer kept smiling as he stepped up into the fresh night air and strangely, for he had no lungs, took a deep breath. His grin faded slightly into a small smile and he started off down the street, three policemen where hidden behind their squad car with weapons locked on the Bringer.  
  
A fourth and more senior policeman gave the order to open fire and the Bringer watched with interest as they emptied their weapons into his chest, without even a bruise to show for it except when the Bringer crushed them with their own car. The Bringer slid down to sit back on his heels and dipped a finger into a pool of blood forming around the officer's bodies, he brought it up to his face and examined it intently before licking every drop off with his tongue. Standing up again he walked away and out of the alley all the while searching out with his mind, searching for her.  
  
Spider-Man rose to consciousness after less than a minute, his body unfurling to a standing position and looking at his surroundings. Captain Stacy was still knocked out and had a cut on his forehead, it wasn't that deep but Spider-Man knew he should get him to hospital. He picked up Stacy easily with his enhanced strength and carried him carefully up the stairs and out of the cellar, He looked over at the police car and thought about handing Stacy over to them but then he saw the pool of blood spreading out from the car and realised it was up to him now. He slowly walked up the wall of the building opposite the destroyed bank.  
  
"Ooh," Stacy groaned as he regained consciousness and looked around groggily, "where am I?"  
  
"You've hurt your head and you were knocked unconscious so I'm taking you to hospital," Spider-Man replied, "I'm warning you it's not going to be a smooth ride."  
  
"Ride, what? Who are you?" Stacy asked as he opened his eyes, "Oh my god it's you!"  
  
"Ok," Spider-Man said as he reached the edge of the building, "hold on tight, I've never done this one-handed before," Stacy shouted in terror as Spider-Man leapt away from the building and into a web-swing.  
  
"What are you doing?" Stacy shouted above the wind.  
  
"I'm taking you to hospital, you lost consciousness for a while there and you may have a serious head injury," Spider-Man replied, trying to keep his concentration on swinging steadily so as not to further damage Captain Stacy.  
  
Spider-Man touched down outside the doors of the hospital front doors and handed Stacy over to a surprised paramedic before swinging off again up into the dizzy heights of the Manhattan skyscrapers. He had to find the Bringer and stop him before he did any more damage, it wouldn't be too hard to find him as the trail of destruction he'd left just in the alley was large enough you could probably follow him from space. Down below him as he swung a slowly developing trail of mayhem was unfolding, leading towards St. Martin's church. Spider-Man turned off and swung in that direction as fast as he could, he let go of his web-line and clung to the ledge next to his old gargoyle friend. He slipped down and sat next to the stone statue, patting it on the head with his gloved right hand.  
  
"Hey," he greeted with mock joviality.  
  
"Hello," another familiar voice replied from behind.  
  
Spider-Man turned to look over his shoulder to see somebody stood behind him. The Bringer stood tall with a smile on his face, he was no longer naked and was wearing a black suit, a black shirt, white tie and a long black leather overcoat.  
  
"I've been waiting for you," he said and straightened his tie, "I knew you'd follow the trail I left you."  
  
"Well you went to all that effort I just thought it was polite to kick your ass for it," Spider-Man retorted, "nice threads by the way."  
  
"Thank you," the Bringer pulled his shirt-cuffs further out of his coat, "it took me a while to find somebody my size," he had blood on his hands.  
  
"So how are we going to do this?"  
  
"Down there," the Bringer replied, "now."  
  
"Done," Spider-Man replied, crawling down the wall of the church down towards the huge brown oak doors. The Bringer simply stepped off the ledge, falling at least a hundred feet and cracking the pavement with indents the shape of his shoes. The Bringer threw off his coat and suit jacket, folding them into a neat pile and placing them on the steps of the church before rolling up his shirtsleeves and loosening his tie.  
  
"You should know that I have never been defeated," the Bringer shouted up to Spider-Man as the hero leapt down from the building to face off against the Bringer.  
  
"You should know that I have never faced anybody so arrogant," the Bringer bent his neck from side to side until it clicked several times before tensing all his muscles. His arms bulged with what seemed to be muscles growing on muscles at his command, he took a step forward and clothes that seemed baggy moments ago were now stretched taut over his body. The Bringer roared his empty black eyes blazed, the black pupils burning with inner fire.  
  
"Nice trick," Spider-Man replied using humour to cover his fear, "let's do this."  
  
Authors Note: For prosperity I have added the dear readers note that this chapter will be replacing so that any future readers won't miss out, and I could use the sympathy. So here it is:  
  
"Dear readers, sorry no chapter this time but a little announcement. On Friday August 29th I got hit by a car, don't worry I'm ok but I've broken my collarbone and got six stitches in my head! I'm finding it increasingly hard and time-consuming to type as my good arm is covered in cuts and bruises, this makes typing an all-too painful process. Until I convince my girlfriend to let me dictate to her there will be no more chapters, but do not worry Spider-fans as she's coming around. Hope this doesn't cause too many problems. Yours, a wounded True Believer."  
  
By the way, I know the Bringer's character seems to change a lot in this chapter but don't worry as it will all be explained in the next chapter. 


End file.
